I Will Bring a Tombstone
by VampirePaladin
Summary: At a nation meeting Belarus informs America that she will come to his house on the sixth and she will bring a tombstone. America fears for his life. Russia is amused.


"I am coming to your house on the sixth. I will bring a tombstone," Belarus said with her arms crossed.

"Yeah, okay, sure," America replied. His glass covered gaze was focused on his meeting notes in front of him. He did not process what she was saying for a second. When he did his eyes shot up and met hers. "Wait, you are coming over?"

"On the sixth, with a tombstone," and with that Belarus turned on the heel of her black Mary Jane and walked away.

The quivering started at his toes and worked its way up his suited body until that one tuft of hair that would not stay in place was waving back and forth like Old Glory in a 4th of July parade. His notes slipped from his fingers. Yes, he was physically far stronger than Belarus. The problem was she possessed a determination far greater than most other countries.

He could practically hear his own funeral dirge. Actually, he was hearing a funeral dirge. It was coming from his left. He turned his head. Sitting there, with a far too innocent smile was none other than Russia. He was humming.

"What are you doing?"

"I felt the sudden desire to hum funeral music. It is very soothing, is it not?"

"Stop it!"

Russia actually stopped his humming. "Did you know that in Taiwan's country when someone dies they have strippers at the funeral?"

"No, no I didn't."

"Comrade, we may have had our differences in the past, but if you were to die I am sure Taiwan would do a strip tease at your funeral. I promise I will make sure China doesn't get in the way."

"I-I'm not going to die any time soon! It is like you expect me to drop dead of a heart attack any second… Can you get her to wear Super Girl lingerie?"

"Da, you are my best enemy."

America left the meeting hall not long after. They had already finished for the next few weeks anyways. He had to make a few quick stops. It was the usual places that any normal person would go to on a crisp afternoon. He went to the hardware store, a video game store and a gun shop. He needed to barricade his house, defend himself and get research. The hardware store trip was successful, he bought plenty of wooden planks and nails. The video game search did not go as well. There was a serious lack of video games were you fought Belarusians. He had to settle for a Star Trek game. After all, Worf grew up in Belarus, which had to be good enough to count as Belarusian. Sadly, the gun shop was closed. So, America would have to go with his usual tactics instead. Destroy the brain or remove the head. Of course Belarus was not a zombie, probably, but those steps worked on killing so many things.

When the sixth came he was hiding behind his couch. His trusty bat was at his side. The doors and windows were boarded up. He would be ready and when Belarus came with his tombstone… well… he'd show her what her tombstone looked like instead.

Hours passed with no sign of Belarus. America began to get sleepy as it grew dark. His head started to nod off. The sound of wood breaking jolted his head up.

Belarus stood in his doorway. Said door and its fortifications were lying at her feet in splinters. She did not look like her normal self. Actually, she was dressed very differently from what he normally saw her in.

She was wearing a dark jacket over a t-shirt, a dark knee length skirt, boots and he could see just a little bit of either tights or high socks. The t-shirt had the words "Lyapis Trubetskoy" and a sort of logo or design on it. It was kind of like a t-shirt someone would wear to a band's concert. In her hand was a square box that was only an inch or two tall.

"Here is your tombstone," Belarus said as she set the frozen pizza down on a table.

"Y-You meant Tombstone Pizza."

"What else would I mean? Do you have more products with that name?"

America laughed nervously. "S-So why did you bring me a frozen pizza?" America asked. "Not that I am complaining!' he quickly added.

"For letting me spend the night at your house."

"Wait… what?"

"My boss won't let me see Lyapis Trubetskoy. They were having a concert in your country, near your house. I decided to come see them. You leave near so I am spending the night in your guest room."

"Oh," was all America could say as Belarus stepped past him and walked up the steps toward the guest room.


End file.
